


Always

by foggysundays



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Hurt Dean, Hurt Sam, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Showers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 17:17:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11948940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foggysundays/pseuds/foggysundays
Summary: Sam and Dean taking care of each other after a long, exhausting hunt that nearly went sideways…I just really needed some fluff!





	Always

**Author's Note:**

> I know I should actually be working on finishing some other things, but this just sort of happened...

The door behind them closes with a resonating bang, the noise uncomfortably loud in the silence of the early morning hours.

A loud curse from a few doors down indicates that there might be complains from their neighbors in the morning but right now he is too tired to care, bone deep exhaustion making his movements sluggish and slow, the coldness in his limbs doing nothing to improve his ability to form a coherent thought beyond the burning desire to collapse on their bed, snow-soaked clothes and all.

It´s not even a great bed, but right now it looks heavenly, all comfortable and warm and clean.

He must have spaced out again for a minute, because the next thing he´s aware of is Dean´s warm hand cupping his neck and those green eyes boring into him in obvious concern.

“You okay, Sammy?”

Of freaking course he is. Fucking peachy even, but somehow his nod doesn’t seem to appease his brother in the slightest. Not that he expected anything different, after all his clothing is still heavy with his own blood, reddish-brown stains that remind both of them of how close he came to bleeding out on the forest floor just a short while ago.

If it hadn´t been for Cas….

Well, if it hadn´t been for Cas they´d probably _both_ be dead by now. _Again_.

But fortunately the angel had been by their side in a heartbeat, his grace burning the poison out of Dean´s veins and reducing the deep gaping wound in Sam´s stomach to nothing but a fading red line. It takes far longer to forget about the fear and pain though, and right now Sam is still shaking with the knowledge that tonight had nearly ended with another involuntary trip to heaven, hell or whichever place currently holds the most power over their souls.

Yeah, their life is awesome.

He valiantly tries to smile at Dean in reassurance but it´s too shaky to do more than increase the worry lines on his brother´s forehead. It probably doesn’t help that he looks like shit warmed over – they both do: dark bags under their eyes, snow and blood soaking their clothes and hair, their faces caught somewhere between pale-white and angry-red from the sudden change from freezing-your-nuts-off to sauna-in-the-dessert. Freaking motels.

Dean lifts a doubtful eyebrow at him but inclines his head in acknowledgment, fingers pressing into his skin for a moment longer before his big brother moves away and starts stripping off his soiled clothes.

Sam tries to do the same but has to face defeat pretty soon because his fingers are still half-frozen and way too stiff to conquer the tiny buttons of his flannel shirt. He fights them nonetheless, growling in frustration when they prove to be a worthy opponent. He´s just about to give up and simply rip the damn thing off when a second pair of hands replaces his own. Dean is huffing in exasperation and probably internally laughing at him, but his hands are steady and making quick work of his shirt, the movements familiar and sure with years of practice.

It´s funny sometimes, to think about how they´d been undressing each other even long before the night of Sam´s twenty-third birthday when they finally became lovers. Sam grew up with Dean´s hands on his clothes, the touch offering comfort during his childhood and on the multiple occasions when he had been too weak or injured to undress himself.

It had started to become pure torture during his teenage years, though, the intimacy of the gesture too much and not nearly enough at the same time, his head running wild with fantasies and scenarios that had always left his cheeks burning in both shame and arousal.

Dean pushes his shirt off his shoulders, throwing it in the general direction of the growing pile of dirty laundry before reaching for Sam´s half-frozen hands and rubbing them until warmth is slowly seeping back into the flesh, an uncomfortable prickling replacing the numbness.

Then his brother´s hands move to his waist again, carefully helping him pull off layer after layer of shirts until the only thing left is the naked skin of his torso. Dean´s fingers are trembling slightly when they trace the dark red line on his stomach that had nearly killed him a few hours ago and suddenly Sam wants nothing more than to bury his face in Dean´s chest and listen to his strong heartbeat.

He can´t, though, because just then his brother slowly drops to one knee and grabs the laces of Sam´s combat boots, loosening them until he can pull them off before finally reaching for Sam´s belt and helping him peel the soaked fabric of his jeans off his clammy skin.

It should probably be arousing to have Dean kneeling at his feet like this, memories of blowjobs and kisses bubbling up in his mind, but for once there´s nothing sexual about it. This is Dean taking care of him, one of those fragile little moments when they´re both too exhausted to keep their usual walls and defenses up. They don´t have to be strong tonight, there´s no one that needs saving, no one here to judge them. It´s just them. _Together. Always_.

Dean leans his forehead against his stomach then, hands digging into the muscles of his hips, hot breath caressing his skin and Sam responds like he always does, simply buries one hand in the short hair on his brother´s neck and holds on as hard as he can, knowing that touch is the only thing keeping them from falling apart right now.

They stay like this for a long moment, quietly enjoying the closeness and warmth of the other. But then Dean finally presses a soft kiss to his skin and moves to stand up again, undressing himself quickly and efficiently, not nearly as careful with his own body as he was with Sam´s.

He should be equally as exhausted as Sam is, but somehow his big brother still finds enough strength to support them both on their way to the shower. They turn the water as hot as they can stand it and then Dean pushes Sam under the spray, climbing in right after him.

It hurts at first, the water burning hot on their snow-cold skin and it feels a bit like being cooked alive (and isn´t it fun that they both know exactly what _that_ feels like….). Warmth slowly seeps back into their bodies and after a few minutes the discomfort disappears entirely, their muscles relaxing and their skin flushing with the heat.

A shampoo bottle clicks open and then Dean´s hands are in his hair, carefully disentangling the strands and massaging his neck and skull just the way Sam loves. It takes three rinses to wash out all the blood and grime and it is only then that his brother moves lower, gently soaping up the rest of him until he is squeaky-clean and half asleep, his exhaustion quickly catching up with him.

Dean laughs at his sleepy expression and pushes Sam deeper under the spray to rinse off any leftover soap.

“You´re dead on your feet, man! Get out of here and into bed already… I´ll be with you in a minute.”

Yeah, so not gonna happen.

It´s both heartbreaking and funny so see the honest surprise in his brother´s eyes when Sam ignores the command and steps closer instead, quickly stealing the shampoo bottle from Dean´s hands and opening it. The idiot still believes that it´s _his_ job to take care of others and it´s always a fight to make him accept any form of a role reversal.

It´s probably a testament to Dean´s own exhaustion that he doesn’t even put up a token protest but immediately leans into the touch and lets Sam manhandle him any way he pleases. Sam loves moments like this, loves when Dean allows himself to let go and relinquish control – it doesn’t happen all that often and it´s exhilarating each and every time.

By the time they´re both clean and warm again the water already starts to cool down and it will probably start to get really uncomfortable under the spray in a minute or two. It´s time to go to bed.

They dry each other off with the tiny towels the motel has provided for them and Sam tries to hide the fact that his hands are trembling noticeably now, though the way Dean´s forehead is wrinkling tells him that it´s already too late for that. It´s fucking hard to find enough energy to brush their teeth as well, but Sam´s mouth taste like shit and it will only be that much worse come morning.

He finally stumbles out of the bathroom on wobbly knees, willpower and Dean´s broad shoulders the only thing keeping him upright at this point. Fucking blood loss.

Sam knows that he should probably eat something more besides the three energy bars that Dean forced into him on their drive back to the hotel, but right now their bed has the gravitational pull of a middle-sized planet and this time there´s nothing keeping him from collapsing onto the mattress, too tired to even think about pulling on a fresh pair of boxers.

“Move over, Sasquatch, and lift your damn ass! It´s too fucking cold to sleep without the covers.”

It takes some wiggling and complaining, but then they´re both in bed, cuddled together as closely as possible and limbs tangled in a way that leaves Sam unable to tell which arm belongs to whom. He somehow finds the energy to lift his head from Dean´s chest one last time and kiss his brother goodnight. It´s slow and affectionate, warm lips and only a hint of lazy tongues, one of those silent _I love you_ ´s that go way deeper than any words ever could.

They won´t leave their bed for the next two days – there hasn’t been much time recently to just relax and be together, not much time for sleep or food or sex beyond hurried hand jobs in the shower.

Dean presses one last lingering kiss to his lips and then gently pulls Sam´s head back down, fingers tangling in his hair and playing with the damp strands until his breathing evens out.

Sam falls asleep with the feeling of Dean´s warm skin pressed against his own and the steady sound of his brother´s heartbeat in his ear.

 


End file.
